


Rest Up

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Eventual Smut, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Reader-Insert, Sam's not been looking after himself, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been working on a vampire hunt with you after Dean got hurt, but Sam's been pushing himself too hard. Once the hunt is done, you decide it's time to take care of Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleGreenPlasticSoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/gifts).



> This is a request fic for LittleGreenPlasticSoldier who won "These Tacos Taste Funny To You? Award - best reader-insert fanfic" in my [Tumblr 300 followers awards.](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/130645202330/this-has-been-my-first-ever-tumblr-awards-having)
> 
> Original request:  
>  _And for the fic I’ve decided I’d like to see Sam get some subby fun. Happy, surprising sub Sam please, not necessarily in a dom/dub “Let’s try switching” thing, and not even that formal I think, just Sam being pleasantly surprised that he’s wanted that much and he’s really, really pleasured and pleased. Please!_

Wiping away the last smears of vampire blood from your machete, you look over at Sam and find him staring at you. You can’t quite read his expression in the dim light, but then Sam catches you looking and a blush creeps up onto his cheeks. Sam quickly turns away and starts checking his gear. Taking a moment to give yourself a once over, you feel a chill breeze over your right buttock and realize that you’ve managed to rip your jeans. Face turning red, modesty gone, you quickly finish up in the carrion filled, former bear den and beat a hasty retreat back to the SUV you’d driven there.

Sam can’t help glancing at your retreating rear. Blush creeping back, he zips up the duffel with the rest of the gear you two had gone in with. There had been five vampires in the nest and now they were all dead. The close quartered fight had left Sam’s body buzzing with adrenaline, but now climbing back out of the cave Sam’s legs shake. Killing the vampires had used the last of his reserves--it had been days since he’d last had a good night’s sleep. Too long since he last ate.

Hunting without Dean at his side has been difficult for Sam, but Dean had badly twisted his right knee three days ago. Calling you in on the hunt had been Dean’s idea. You were “good people”, having helped Bobby a few times when he’d been alive. Sam had also decided that you were good people, but his reasons for this were jumbled together.

Late summer sunshine blazes outside. Reaching the SUV, Sam stumbles beside the rear hatch and then you’re at his right side, supporting his tall frame, taking the duffel and slinging it in the back. You smile up at Sam and he flashes you a thankful grin.

“I think I could sleep a week,” Sam jokes and his chest rumbles with a laugh. The vibrations carrying through your side.

Your stomach rumbles. “I need food before I consider a bed.” You sniff under your arms, and then lightly nose Sam’s right pit--which smells of musk, souring sweat and a vague hint of warmly spiced deodorant--like it’s the most natural thing to do and make a face. “And we both need a shower,” you add.

The intimate, unexpected contact makes Sam stiffen for a moment, but then a yawn creeps out of his mouth and he relaxes. “Mmmuunnhh… Awww, but a bed would be so good right now.”

Sam brushes his fingers along your side, making you shiver. You close the back and Sam follows you round to the front passenger door, arm wrapped around your waist. Sam yawns again. The closeness is more than affable, drawing out what had been building for days.

Sam almost stumbles again and you catch him.

“You know what? I’ll drive. You rest up while I get us back to the motel.” Swiping the keys from Sam’s right you start walking over to the driver’s side.

Sam laughs sleepily. “You’re gonna have to either fix those or use them for scrap,” Sam calls, getting in on the passenger side.

Embarrassed, you put your right hand on your exposed butt cheek and hold the torn denim together. Reaching the driver’s door, you open it and climb in, glaring at Sam when he laughs again. The glare isn’t because he’s laughing, more because he’s taking advantage of your wardrobe malfunction--eyes sneaking peeks at the revelation that is black lace underwear. But the anger is just for show and Sam knows this.

“You get busy taking a nap or I will use all the hot water when we get back.” You put the keys in the ignition and the SUV roars to life around you.

“Okay, okay.” Tucking his hair away behind his ears, Sam puts on his seatbelt and curls against the passenger door. It’s not the Impala, but the rocking of the compact Cherokee--swaying on its suspension down the dirt road--manages to lull Sam to sleep.

***

“Sleeping beauty, time to wake up,” you call over to Sam. The moose stirs, huffing a strand of hair out of his face. Blinking his eyes open, Sam glances over to you and smiles.

“We at the motel?”

“Yep, you slept the whole three hours. Let’s order in some pizza if Dean doesn’t already have plans.”

Getting out of the SUV, Sam pulls out his cell and checks his messages. There’s one from Dean. “Dean’s at a bar and says don’t wait up.”

“Oh...” You lead the way to the room the three of you had booked out. The situation wasn’t ideal. Sam had taken to the floor the past few nights. Dean and you had the beds.

You go to open the door and find you’re lacking personal space, Sam breathing down your neck a little. Heat raises to your cheeks. A hand rests on the tear of fabric--a finger teasing your panties underneath. You hook your own hand on top of Sam’s and make it press against you more. A breath rushes out of Sam, and you bump against Sam gently for a second and then shift both of your hand and Sam’s away.

“Sam…” You look over your shoulder and up at Sam. “Food,” you say in a bossy tone.

A sigh escapes Sam and he follows you into the motel room as you open the door. The very ripe, human odor of three people living in close quarters for several days permeates the air. You almost sprint over to the far wall in order to get to a window. Opening it it, you breathe in a lungful of the fresh air beginning to filter into the haiwan wallpapered room.

“Alright if I grab the shower first?” You ask, already bundling a change of clothes and your wash things into your arms.

“Only if you’ll let me order pizza.” Sam’s eyeing a menu on the side and then sneaking a glance at you bent over, eyes lingering on your butt--you’re picking up a few more items of clothing from your bag. He quickly turns his attention back to the menu when you stand up and glance at him.

“Sure, but no anchovies.”

“No anchovies, got it.” Sam flashes you a smile. You subconsciously lick your lips before piling into the bathroom and locking the door behind you.

***

You don’t use all the hot water, leaving enough for Sam to get cleaned up. Emerging from the steamy space, you almost feel awake again. There’s a towel on your head and you’re wearing a clean t-shirt, fresh panties, no bra and non torn jeans--you feel almost relaxed. Dumping your dirty clothes in a laundry bag and stowing your wash things, you sigh and straighten, stretching your arms in the air.

Sam glances up at you. He’s sat at the table, having stopped doing something on his laptop, eyes now falling on the t-shirt you’re wearing. It’s a very familiar t-shirt.

“I think that’s mine,” Sam says, eyes fixed on the whippet pictured on the front of the purple t-shirt.

You shrug. “Your bag spilled into mine last night. I tried to sort through it all best I could.”

Sam stretches, gets up from his seat and keeps his eyes on the shirt. “Pretty sure you’d remember owning that if you did.”

“What, you want it back now?” You grip the bottom hem of the t-shirt and start to slowly pull it up, watching for Sam’s reaction.

Pulling up the edge of the shirt far enough to reveal your navel, you see the younger Winchester start to blush. He holds up a hand. “Okay, okay, Y/N, you can wear it for now.”

Stopping the tease, you flatten the shirt against your belly once more. “If you’re sure… Don’t think it’ll really fit a grown man like you anyway.”

Laughing, Sam nods and rubs the back of his head. “I can’t remember the last time I wore that thing.”

“I’m not sure I can imagine you ever being small enough to wear this shirt…” You say, looking down at your own chest.

“Yeah…” Sam grabs some clean clothes, face a little red. “I’m gonna go wash up. Pizza should be here soon, so I’ll be quick.” He bundles himself into the bathroom before you can say anything and gets the water going. Sam doesn’t lock the door.

You sit down on the edge of your bed and start checking messages on your cell. There’s a couple from a few hunters you know asking if you’ve got anything on a witch cult that’s been getting big on the East coast. That requires more than a text’s worth of characters, so you tap out an email for a reply. You link to a bunch of news stories you’d spotted in the last couple of months, send that off and finish towelling your hair.

A knock at the door signals pizza and you pay for it with cash Sam left on the side. You close the door and Sam emerges from the steam filled bathroom. No shirt on; hair falling wetly around his face; jaw still covered in the day’s growth; droplets on his pecks--you have to stop yourself staring at Sam. You place the pizza box down on the table. Sam puts his dirty clothes in a laundry bag, pulls out a plaid shirt from his duffel and puts it on, but doesn’t button it.

“That pizza smells good.” Sam pushes his damp hair back from his face.

“What’d you... get?”

“You’ll see.” Sam hustles past you and you try not to obsess over his state of undress. Grabbing two beer bottles from the room’s mini fridge, he passes you one and then sits at the table. It takes you a moment to copy him.

The instant your backside’s resting on the cheap, fake leather, Sam flips the cardboard lid up and hands you a slice covered in slow cooked chicken breast, spinach, mozzarella and sliced olives on top a saucey base. Your mouth is watering before you take your first bite, hunger finally taking hold. Companionable silence settles between the two of you for several minutes, allowing you to demolish your first and second slices.

“So, what are you gonna do tomorrow?” Sam asks, licking some tomato sauce from his fingers.

Tongue darting about your own digits, you think on the question a moment. “Hmm,” you pick up a napkin, “think I’ll head back home. Need to resupply. Check my mail. That sort of thing,”

“That... sort of thing.” Sam looks over at you, eyes a little dark, left thumb poised by his mouth. You nudge his bare left foot with your bare right foot and Sam takes a sharp intake of breath.

“What about you? Any hunts you gonna take up after?” You wipe the corner of your mouth and discard the napkin.

Sam is thoughtful for a moment, bared chest visibly rising and falling with each breath. “I’m not sure… Dean’s knee won’t be good for anything for at least a couple more weeks.”

“Maybe you could both head back with me? Dean could rest up and make sure he doesn’t do anymore damage. We could see if there’s any local hunts… There’s a couple of cases pals of mine are messing with.”

Eyes fixed on you, Sam nods slowly. The idea is tempting, there’s no way he can deny that. Playing hunter and house at the same time, even if Dean’s there. It sounds like the kind of break Sam would be able to get behind.

Picking up your beer bottle, you tilt your head back and take a pull from it. Sam watches your throat work, watches the way your lips touch the chill glass. He licks his lips, staying where he is and picks up his own cool bottle of beer, condensation beading on the brown glass and wetting his right fingers. Your eyes flick to Sam and he switches his gaze, suddenly interested in the curtains beside him, beer bottle hastily pressed to his mouth.

“Sam, is everything alright?” You ask, voice sure, placing your bottle back on the table, but keeping it between your fingers. You know he’s not okay--his breaths coming just that touch faster.

Taking a short swig, Sam dangles the bottle between his fingers. “I-I, uh… I…” He glances at you nervously. The surety that he’d possessed earlier, touching you in the doorway, now gone.

Rising up from your seat, you step over to Sam and sit down on his lap. You take another pull of your beer, slow--eyes watching, ears straining, nerves waiting. Sam shifts his legs, moving you slightly on his lap, and curls his beer free left hand lightly around your waist. The sourness of stale sweat is gone now. Sam’s scent is spiced and delightfully male.

The touch is asking if this is what you want. You answer by nuzzling into the stubble roughened left side of Sam’s neck and then kissing the skin there--mouth light, but cold from your beer. A slight tremble runs through Sam, but he doesn’t do anything back except gripping your waist a tiny bit tighter. Sam can’t quite believe that he’s offering up no resistance, but the pressure of you on top of him and the dainty touch of your mouth is teasing out of him a need to yield. The past few days had been a hectic mess of research, tracking, planning and slaughter, and his hardening cock under your presence is telling him that he should take a step back.

Soft pink lips reaching Sam’s, you press all of yourself into him and revel in the effect you’re having. Building Sam up. Eking out the slow burn of need. Sam’s breaths turn shallow and fast. You rest your chill, damp beer bottle against Sam’s exposed chest and instead of a shiver you get a low moan in response. Sam’s legs shift again and your covered folds delight in the friction Sam’s clothed hard-on is inducing. You take the bottle away from his chest.

Moving your mouth to Sam’s left ear, you ask in a whisper, “Sam… what do you want?”

Free hand curling against you even more, Sam makes a low noise in his throat and bumps himself up against you. Warmth spreading across your cheeks and chest, you kiss Sam’s cheek and then bring your mouth to his. Moving your lips against Sam’s, you tease his mouth open and flick your tongue against his. Swirling the fleshy sensitive tracts of muscle together, Sam’s breaths and your own become shorter and shorter. Below the pizza and beer, there’s a taste that is uniquely Sam and you chase it, pressing yourself against him.

Setting your beer bottle down on the table, you take your chilled hand to Sam’s sculpted chest and brush the tips of your fingers against his right nipple. That gets you another moan, straight into your mouth and a slight buck of his hips against you, making you slide over yourself. Ending the kiss you smirk at Sam and relish the way his eyes track your every movement. There’s a question unasked there on his face.

“You trust me, right?” You say softly, eyes focused on Sam’s.

Sam nods. “Yes.”

“I’ll take good care of you.” Sliding off of Sam’s lap earns you a whimper.

Sam feels like a rubber band suspended between two pencils that have been slowly twisting and stretching him until he can’t do either anymore and all that’s left is to release or snap. He hopes for the former.

Holding your hands out to Sam, he puts his beer bottle on the table and grips you to help ease himself out of his chair. The instant Sam is standing, you press up against him again, bringing your hands to his cheeks and bend him down into another kiss, this one quick and forceful. The muscles trembling in front of you tell you that Sam’s waited long enough.

Deft fingers fluttering up Sam’s chest, you help him pull his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then you bring Sam’s massive hands to the hem of your borrowed t-shirt and he pulls the shirt slowly up your body and then off over your head, letting it fall to the floor beside his shirt. You reach out to Sam’s jeans and unbuckle his belt before making short work of his button and flies. Coaxing Sam to mimic you, Sam leaves your jeans open too. You rest your fingers on Sam’s hips and then ease the warm denim down his legs, partially freeing his boxers covered cock. There’s a tiny wet spot over where Sam’s tip is pressed and you kneel down in front of Sam and nose at it.

“Fuck! Y/N!” Sam cries, muscles shaking.

You look up at Sam and he glances down to you. “You trust me, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes,” he says, voice hoarse.

Daintily slipping your fingers under the waistband of Sam’s boxers, you slide the boxers down to his ankles, letting his heavy cock bounce free. There’s more pre-come beading at the tip and you flick your tongue over it, sucking the saltiness down and Sam quivers. Gaze turning up to Sam, you lock eyes with him, pushing his hardness into your mouth and swallowing him down as far as you can. Briefly you rest there and then you pull up, tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft, swirling the tip once you come back up again. The younger Winchester trembles harder, breath quick, eyes searching. You give Sam’s cock one last lick and then pull away, climbing up Sam’s body.

Sam watches you shimmy out of your own jeans and panites, still trembling from your mouth. He needs release, wants you to take him.

“Lie down on my bed.”

It’s a simple order and Sam obeys, stepping out of his clothes. Heading over to your bed, Sam hears you moving around behind him, sifting through a bag. Sam climbs onto the bed and scoots to the middle before flipping over and laying out on the covers, cock rising up into the air. He’s still unsure if he’ll just unwind or snap when he sees you standing at the foot of the bed, condom packet in hand. The anticipation inside Sam twists just that tiny bit more the moment you climb onto the bed and straddle his thighs.

Closing your eyes a moment, you let out a long breath. The friction provided by straddling Sam’s thighs is a tease that helps loosen you up just that little bit more. Opening your eyes halfway, you grin at Sam.

The wetness of your folds is coating Sam’s skin and making his cock fill with even more blood, tip red and weeping more pre-come. Sam watches you take the condom out of its foil. His eyes roll back into his head while you slide the latex down his sensitive length. Gaze falling back to you, Sam watches you shift up his body and then hover yourself over his aching cock. You begin to lower yourself onto him. Sam cries out, your tight wet heat swallowing him with ease. You feel perfect to him and he does to you, his hardness filling you up.

Leaning forward, placing your hands either side of Sam’s head, you lift yourself and then push yourself down experimentally on Sam’s length. That earns you a gasp from Sam and his lips finding yours. He kisses you eagerly and you kiss him back, as you repeat the motion. This time his hips thrust up to meet yours when you come down.

“Y/N, please,” Sam begs, wanting more, his body trembling below yours. Changing the position of your hips slightly, you manage to get Sam’s cock head to graze your g-spot on the downwards thrust and you feel yourself open more to him, wetness slicking the way.

A rhythm begins to form and the two of you gasp and cry together, bodies working in unison. Sweat glistens from Sam’s chest in the low light and you can feel trickles of it running down your back. Desperate mouths find each other and your lips suck and bite at Sam’s, your thighs speeding up, his stubble rubbing your mouth. Tongues mimicking your lower bodies, you drag Sam’s right hand down between the two of you and press him at the join between your two bodies.

Wetting his fingers with your juices, Sam presses his pointer finger to your clit and begins to rub you in time with your thrusts. Rocking up and down, up and down Sam’s length, his finger working you, the ache between your legs drives your desperation. Grunting for a moment, Sam pulls his mouth away from yours and catches a few breaths before kissing up into your mouth again. Each graze, each rub, coils the release of your orgasm, bringing it closer.

Suddenly you pull away and lean on the backs of your legs, thighs squeezing Sam, your hands resting on your calves as you lift yourself up and down Sam’s cock. The change in position lets Sam see all of you as he rubs you and thrusts up into you. You watch each other, taking pleasure in the redness of each other’s faces; each other’s sweat slicked skin; dark pupils; moans and trembles and needy cries.

“You like this Sam, don’t you? Like having your hand held. Like being made to feel so very good.”

A keening sound rips out of Sam’s throat. “Yes, fuck, yes!” Sam’s determined not snap, but he can’t last much longer.

You can feel it in your center, your release starting to work its way to the surface and claim all of your senses. Hands likely to leave marks, you grip your calves tighter and bounce faster on top of Sam. You just need a tiny bit more.

“Want to see your face when you come, Sam. Wanna hear you shout and cry. Want you to come for me, Sam!”

Eyes going wide at your words, Sam knows his release his near, his balls ready to spill. A shout works its way out of your mouth and you scream, your body tensing, your core clenching down around Sam, as you buck and shake your way through your orgasm. This all translates to Sam’s cock and he comes hard, shouting your name and shuddering with his release.

Finally coming to a rest, you kneel forward and then climb off of Sam. Catching his breath, Sam reaches down himself and removes the condom. The two of you remain silent a moment as you straighten yourselves up. Meeting by the table, the lights now low, both still naked, you take Sam by the hand and lead him back to your bed. You pull away the covers and let Sam climb in first and then you follow him, propping yourself up on your pillows and bringing the covers over the two of you.

Sam goes to cuddle you, but you stop him and instead pull him into your arms, his head resting on your breasts. Calm settles over both of you and you can feel how much less tension there is in Sam’s body. You kiss the top of Sam’s head and nuzzle his hair, breathing in the scent of his apple shampoo.

The two of you are like this for a few minutes, until Sam turns his head to look up at you. Sam’s about ready for sleep, but in the warm afterglow of sex he’s is experiencing a level of contentment he hasn’t for quite some time. There’s a sense of disbelief coloring his wakefulness, surprise that he had needed this so much.

“Y/N, that was… I didn’t… thank you.”

Smiling at Sam, you lean forward a little and press a kiss to his forehead. “The pleasure wasn’t all yours, y’know. Now ssssh, try and get some sleep.”

Sam returns the smile and gets comfortable again. He huffs a few strands of hair away from his face and closes his eyes. It’s not long before he’s asleep, cradled in your arms.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this fic over on [Tumblr here](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/134684746635/rest-up). Kudos and comments are very welcome :)


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